xp_logs | Trojan Horse, part two - Sixty Minutes (Nathan, Manuel, Monday morning) (Reply)

Back at the mansion, Nathan and Manuel spar with knives in the gym and add powers into the mix. It is a mutually instructive exchange. Then Nathan gets a phone call.

"I'll have to stick with one knife," Nathan said, turning to face Manuel, who was still on the mats, stretching. "This wrist is still healing." They had decided to make this morning a gym-day. By mutual agreement, too, which Nathan found both interesting and refreshing, remembering how much Manuel had balked at the physical part of their 'curriculum' before Asgard.

Manuel finished up stretching by picking his torso up off the floor and pulling himself out of the flat split he was in at the time. "Then you'll be at a disadvantage. Makes up for your superior experience." he said as he stood up and moved to the weapons rack to grab the training knives. "How long do you like your knife to be?"

"Make it the same size you use for your long knife," Nathan suggested, then grinned wryly. "And I should point out, Manuel, I'm not Dom. I was taught basic combat knife-fighting."

"You are _definitely_ not Dom." he agreed emphatically with an exaggerated waggle of his eyebrows. He pulled down two long knives and a shorter knife, then handed Nathan one of the long knives. "You've also been out there putting your life on the line for more years than I've been out on my own." he pointed out sensibly. "So things tend to even out this way."

Nathan fell into a basic defensive stance, waiting for Manuel to take the first move. "Been a while since I was in a knife-fight," he said, the grin lingering. "I may have gotten lazy and sloppy. I guess we'll see."

"Stop trying to psych me out." Manuel said, taking his own basic offensive stance. "I'm not going to cut you any slack because you're old or flabby, and I don't expect you to cut me any because I'm young and beautiful." he smirked, then lunged forward for a basic stab - keeping the second knife back to parry with.

Nathan parried, surprised and pleased by the speed of Manuel's attack. "Old, yes," he said. "Flabby? Please."

Manuel kicked it up a few notches - his time in Asgard had taught him a new respect for the flurry of blows approach to knife-fighting. His strikes got faster and more accurate - his second blade seeming to materialize just where it was needed to block a return attack.

It was very much like fighting Dom, Nathan thought, only without Dom's occasional showboating. He was still mostly on the defensive, and unless he really pushed it, that was where he was going to stay. "Efficient," he said breathlessly, shifting back out of easy range. 'Efficient and effective."

Manuel didn't respond verbally, preferring to save his wind for the fighting. But he did get a little sneaky - he slashed with the long knife, and then tried to follow it up with a trip to knock Nathan over. "We gonna do this with powers at some point?" he asked, only breathing slightly hard.

Nathan let the slash connect, so that he could sidestep the trip. #What did you have in mind?# he asked telepathically, nodding to acknowledge that Manuel had scored a point. #Think it at me; save your breath.#

Manuel smiled thinly as he kept up his assault. #You're a telepath, I'm an empath. Mind-to-mind, blade-to-blade# he thought with a great deal of relish. #The true test of the man, wouldn't you say?#

#Oh, so in return for my questionable edge on the physical level, you want to exercise yours on the psionic level?# Nathan inquired wryly, pushing back just a little. #I suppose that's fair.#

Manuel grinned, and then his eyes glowed red as he projected a kaleidoscope of emotions at Nathan - #fearangergigglyafraidhappydespair#, over and over again. As he projected, he changed up his rhythm of strikes and blocks entirely, looking to throw Nathan even further off his game.

Nathan had started to back up the instant Manuel's eyes had started to glow. The empathic attack still hit him fairly hard, and instinct alone let him keep parrying, although he was completely on the defensive at this point and Manuel did land a couple of good touches. He managed to kick down to zen level, though, and grinned coolly at Manuel as his head cleared. "Not bad," he complimented, and came at him with everything he had, simultaneously projecting a roar of telepathic babble, the rough equivalent of what even a beta telepath heard with their shields down.

Manuel's rhythms faltered as he tried to cope with the split focus and the voices being slammed into his shields. Nathan scored four good touches in a row before Manuel got his bearings and fought back - not with a direct assault, but with the empathic equivalent of a rosined bow being dragged across the taut string of Nathan's link to Moira.

He had never lost his grip on zen level quite so abruptly before. That comforting coolness shattered, and Nathan flung himself backwards, stumbling and throwing up a TK shield instinctively. "Don't do that," he choked out, realizing he was on his knees on the mats. "Don't ever do that... didn't I warn you about that?"

Manuel smirked, and flipped his long knife in his hand. "All's fair, Nathan. I told you I wasn't going to cut you any slack. And it did the job - kicked you right out of that fugue state you like so much. And that was just sensation - I could have cut it, but then you would have killed me dead before I could draw another breath. Despite what anyone _else_ says, I have no intention of dying any time real soon."

Nathan rose, rage boiling up inside him, almost demanding that he advance on Manuel. But he stayed right where he was, the part of him that was thinking clearly glad that Moira was in New York, not in the immediate vicinity where she would have gotten more than an echo of that. That part of him went on to remind himself that he was supposed to be assessing Manuel's adjustment, post-Asgard. Not indulging himself in a temper tantrum, justified or not.

"Don't do it again," he growled.

Manuel's eyes flashed as he took Nathan's anger and squashed it. "Perhaps." he said, and then stepped forward to continue their sparring match - with a long-knife aimed straight for the solar plexus.

Nathan parried, then took advantage of the fact that Manuel had nicely put himself within reach and lashed out with his free hand, pulling his punch but still catching Manuel a good blow across the jaw. "Not perhaps," he spat, backing off a step to let him recover. "Not again. Ever."

Manuel's head spun with the impact, but he pulled himself together far faster than he ever would have before Asgard. "We'll see, old man." he said, using his power to pump Nathan's irritation all out of proportion - an angry mind was an unfocused mind, and an unfocused mind was a defeated mind. Or so the wisdom went.

He knew Manuel was pushing him - would have been able to tell, even without the glowing eyes - and Nathan gritted his teeth, knowing zen level was beyond him just now. Maybe it was time to go to the other side of the spectrum. He threw himself into the anger wholeheartedly, letting himself ride it, searching for that diamond-sharp edge of rage as he went on the offensive again, not holding much at all back this time.

Manuel, able to sense the shift, wouldn't let Nathan find the cold, honed anger - he kept Nathan's anger messy and sloppy, a detriment and not a benefit. He rode out the attacks, not giving Nathan any opportunities that he could possibly deny him.

Time for more than just the physical offensive, Nathan realized as his irritation continued to get the better of him and Manuel landed a couple of good touches. Viciously, he formed the mental image of Amanda and Angelo in a passionate embrace and shoved it at Manuel with every bit of telepathic strength he had.

Manuel scowled as his mental discipline completely failed him. Roaring in fury, he went on an all-out offensive, taking reckless chances in order to try to hurt Nathan as much as he could.

Parrying more steadily as the irritation began to fade, Nathan smiled coldly, even as he admitted to himself that even in a rage, Manuel was much better at this than he had been before Asgard. But as he established that Manuel really wasn't thinking about his pattern of attack he went back on the offensive, driving Manuel back across the maps, taking opening and scoring touches. Even as he did, he followed up that first image with a flurry of others: Manuel's father, towering over him with an ominous expression; Kwannon, laughing; white-coated figures advancing on Manuel, syringes in their hands.

Manuel screamed incoherently and poured everything the dampener would give him into a single empathic spike, aimed right for Nathan's most primal emotions. Fear - cold, earthshattering terror. Abandonment - the loneliness of the certainty of always being alone. The terror of fighting an opponent that you know you can't beat when your life is on the line. He poured all of these things in one massive _shove_, and followed it with a stabs for Nathan's throat and groin.

Nathan reeled, but instinct moved him, had him stumbling sideways and out of the way of Manuel's wild attack. The young man whipped around to come at him again and Nathan lashed out with his telekinesis, freezing him in place. "Enough," he said raggedly, trying to straighten. Adrenalin and terror was jolting through him, and there was a part of him that wanted nothing so much as to find a corner to curl up in. "That's enough," he said, pushing the emotions down and away with all this strength. #We're done,# he added telepathically, easing his grip on Manuel as he sensed the young man's thoughts start to settle. #Stand down.# That he tried to give the force of a command.

Manuel shrugged that command off, sheer rage and lust serving to shield him from the bulk of the force of the command. Finally, after a few minutes of struggle, he went limp as he finally got himself under control. "That was ... not cool." he said, panting heavily.

"No," Nathan said heavily, lowering the knife and raising his free hand to wipe his forehead. "It wasn't. I think we got a little carried away." He focused on Manuel, assessing what he could tell of the young man's mental state now that his shields were firming up again. "Are you all right?"

"No, I don't think I am. Thanks ever so much for stirring that great big pile of shit for me." he said, grumbling. "Now I get to deal with it all over again. I'm fairly sure you hit every button I possess with those attacks."

"Oh, and you weren't trying to drive me into a panic striking out at my link like that," Nathan said warningly. They had both pushed things too far. He wasn't going to let Manuel opt out of his share of responsibility.

"No, actually, I was hoping to take you well off your game with that." Manuel admitted. "A bad idea, overall. It worked, but the collateral was a little much to deal with."

Nathan took a deep breath, then let it back out again. "I overcompensated," he said, turning to put his knife back on the rack. "I'm sorry. Attacking the link is one of the few things that will make me do that. You should know that by now."

Manuel waved off the apology. "The fault is mine. I went for the quickest and easiest way to get you, and it backfired." he explained.

"Well, I think we both scored a few points," Nathan said with a very faint smile, turning back around as he rubbed at his wrist. Really shouldn't have punched with that hand, he thought resignedly. Romany would have been boxing his ears for wasting her healing spell. "Don't think it's a good indication of how it would go if we were fighting for real, but you've shown you can use your empathy in a combative sense pretty damned well."

"I like to think that I can. I paid a heavy price for that ability. Sunup to sundown, six days a week, for three months. No breaks, no rest, no sympathy, no tolerance for weakness." he said with a heavy sigh. "But the skills I walked away with were worth it."

"Sounds like some of my early training," Nathan said dryly, but not without sympathy. "That sort of schedule does inspire competence, if nothing else."

"It was good for me." he said firmly. "Forced me to confront my weaknesses head-on. Loki was a harsh tutor, but a fair one. And he always treated me well when I succeeded in tasks. Good food, women, rest, anything I wanted."

"Sounds like he was more successful than the Askani, on the whole," Nathan said, ignoring the outraged murmur inside his skull.

Manuel nodded. "In all honesty, the techniques he used would not have worked if they had come from the Askani. He took my frailities, my weaknesses, and put them into a crystal globe. Then, every night, I had to confront them - learn the embrace the pain, the damage, the loss along with the happy times."

Nathan grimaced. "Forcing you to do in a couple of months what could have taken you years," he murmured. "If ever."

"Something like that." he said with a pained smile. "I'm really not a very good person, at least previously to now."

"I'd reiterate what I said the other day about moving forward, once you've recognized that, but you did tell me you have an eidetic memory now," Nathan said with a smile, turning away again to get his water bottle. "How have you been sleeping?" he said more briskly. "The last couple of nights, I mean."

"Sleep?" he said with a grin. "I haven't been. I need very little sleep of late, and my mind has been too heavy with dark thoughts to rest properly."

"I'm always a little wary of people telling me they don't need to sleep," Nathan said dryly, taking a long sip of his water bottle. "Given my own recent experiences with what happens when you don't..." His cell phone, which had been sitting by the water bottle, rang, and he grinned suddenly, then shot Manuel an apologetic look. "Excuse me for a moment?" he asked, picking it up and seeing that yes, it was Moira's number. Calling to remind him that he'd promised to meet her for lunch...

Manuel nodded. "Certainly." he said, moving back over to the practice weapons rack to replace his own knives.

Hitting the button on the phone and raising it to his ear, Nathan smiled as he watched Manuel putting the knives away. "Hey, love. You're later than you thought you'd be," he said into the phone.

There was a momentary silence, then an almost regretful chuckle. "Later than you realize, Nathan," Morgan's voice responded.

Manuel felt the change in Nathan's emotional state, and clamped down _hard_ on his initial reactions, so as to better get the full story out of whoever Nathan was talking to on the phone.

The panic was gone suddenly, as if someone had sublimated it so far down that it was unreachable. Still, it took him a moment to respond. "Morgan," he said slowly. "What are you doing?"

"Unless you're getting senile in your old age, Nathan, I'm sure you can probably guess."

Manuel watched Nathan with some concern. Inside of his head, he tried mindcalling for Professor Xavier. ~We may have a problem.~ he thought very loudly.

"Our old New York safehouse," Morgan said. "In exactly an hour, Nathan."

"Or?" So hard to get one simple word out.

"You're going to make me say it, aren't you?" Morgan sounded tired, frustrated, almost sad. "Or, I kill her myself, Nathan. Orders." And he hung up.

Manuel took another look at Nathan's emotions, and clamped down hard upon his mind _again_. "All right, tell me what that was all about." he said in a hard voice that brooked no disobedience.

"They have Moira," Nathan said almost numbly. "Mistra has Moira." The phone slipped out of his fingers, clattered on the floor, and he took a step towards the door. "I have to go."

"No you don't. Stop and _think_, Nathan! They want you to be so rattled and off your game that you'll run off and do something really stupid. Did I not just demonstrate to you how easy that is to do? Stop and gather your resources. Tell Charles - I'm sure he can have the X-Men scrambled in fifteen minutes. You'll need the backup." he ordered.

Nathan tried to shake it off, to think... but then, Charles was in his mind. #Manuel is quite right, Nathan, except that I believe Scott has the team's response time closer to ten minutes, these days. Come to my office, please--we'll need to assemble a briefing.#

And Nathan surrendered. Knowing they were both right. Moira's safety was at risk here; everything else aside, he couldn't be sure of getting her out on his own. "I'm going to Charles now," he said. His voice still didn't sound quite right. He started towards then door, then stopped, looking back at Manuel. "If..." He stopped, shaking his head. #Just in case,# he sent faintly. #I am proud of you. I have been for a while now.#

Then he let the urgency take over and ran from the gym.

Manuel couldn't help but smile thinly at Nathan's admission. "Go get her back." he said softly.